


The Witch's Folly

by ArtjuiceRP



Series: The Swan-Feather Cloak [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-11
Updated: 2014-05-11
Packaged: 2018-01-24 09:29:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1599932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtjuiceRP/pseuds/ArtjuiceRP
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One-shot taking place in 'The Swan-Feather Cloak'-verse. </p>
<p>As Princess Emma runs to find her son, Killian Jones is faced with a different dilemma. A witch eager to make him think about why he is racing to face the all powerful dark one, and if it’s what he really wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Witch's Folly

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you all enjoy this! Takes place just after Chapter 12 of The Swan-Feather Cloak, which it would be a good idea to read if you haven't read it already!
> 
> Thanks to Hawkeye733 for beta-ing!

# The Witch’s Folly

Killian knew that something was wrong. Emma’s eyes had widened the moment she glanced behind him, her shock signifying that something had happened. However, he couldn’t look away. Killian didn’t want to waste precious seconds by not looking at Emma, especially since they now seemed unlikely to be near one another for a while.

He absorbed every slight aspect of her departure, seeing the way she refused to look away from him and how her grip on her cloak tightened, her knuckles white, as she stumbled away. She had only moved after he insisted that she leave him, and he watched until Emma darted behind a tree, his gaze unwavering until he was certain that he could no longer see her.

It was only then that he turned back around, his hand clenched tightly around the hilt of his sword, hook raised defensively. The sight of the witch caused him to stagger back in shock. Before Emma’s departure, the witch had been old and stooped, a mess of grey hair around a lined face. In front of him, however, stood a familiar figure with long, tousled hair and steely, grey eyes.

The disguise didn’t fool him for a second, his shock springing from a realisation that he had come to think of Milah in black and white, just as she appeared in the charcoal drawings adorning the walls of his cabin.

Even though his memory of Milah was lacking - a new realisation that he didn’t want to dwell on - the witch could have never fooled him. She may have looked like Milah, but the adventurous spark, the light that he still remembered so clearly, was missing from her eyes. Killian had always known Milah was capable of looking mean, something that had been particularly useful when they were pirating together, but the look had never been directed at him before.

“Whatever trick you’re trying to play is far less effective when I know you’re not Milah.” Killian snarled, the river behind him so loud that his own voice was difficult to hear. “As I said before, I really was expecting something less pathetic.”

She swayed towards him, her hand reaching out to lightly touch his arm, and Killian flinched away. She _wasn’t_ Milah, and proximity wasn’t going to change that. “If you want it enough, does it really matter?” she murmured, a dark, seductive lilt to her voice that made him shiver away. Milah had never spoken that way. “Isn’t this the next best thing to having your Milah back?”

“I don’t want Milah back.”

The words had escaped him before he had thought them through, and his own announcement was what made him finally stumble away from the witch, his feet slipping slightly as he reached the bank of the river. Milah - _the witch_ \- curled her lip, the distaste in her expression reminding him of how Milah had looked whenever she spoke of her husband, of Rumplestiltskin. The look was so familiar that, for the first time, his confidence in the witch’s identity wavered for a brief second.

“You’ve been searching for revenge over her death for so long and yet you don’t wish Milah was back with you?” the witch spat, looking amused when Killian stumbled away from the river edge, making sure he regained his balance before staring down the witch. He didn’t want to appear affected by what she was saying or by what he had said. “Wouldn’t it be nice to let go of your revenge and be with Milah again? How can you not want that?”

Killian didn’t want to answer. These few minutes that had passed were too precious to be spent discussing an impossibility, especially when the quicker he dealt with the witch, the closer Emma would be. “I’ve discovered lately that I want many other things.” he stated, desperate to keep things as brief as he could. “And being with a pale imitation of Milah would definitely interfere with such dreams.”

He turned to leap into the river, the only way to Emma, but the witch clawed at his coat, holding him in place. “This path of revenge will keep you from those dreams as well.”

Killian clenched his jaw, the witch’s sudden change of approach making him wonder what she was doing. “What do you want from me?” he asked, turning to meet the witch’s gaze. “Killing me doesn’t seem to be your priority right now.”

“I don’t want to kill you.” the witch told him with a giddy cackle. “That’s an honour that Rumplestiltskin wants for himself. I want to make sure that your plan for killing him can’t happen. Once that woman has her son back, your hopes for distracting the Dark One will be ruined. The Dark One will still live. This distraction doesn’t seem necessary though. I doubt you’ll even attempt to kill him.”

“Really?” Killian asked, eyebrow raised in disbelief. “You know how long I’ve spent planning my vengeance and you think that I _won’t_ kill the Dark One when I have the opportunity. You’re deluded.”

She cackled harshly once again. “If anyone here is deluded, it’s you, pirate. You’ve lost your thirst for revenge. You lost it weeks ago. The only reason you’re still seeking Rumplestiltskin’s death is because it’s a habit. Revenge is not what you want. Not anymore.”

“I _want_ to know that the man who killed Milah, the man who destroyed my happiness, is gone.” he snapped, the remark leaving his lips before he could think on the witch’s comment. Once he had spoken, he fell silent, his own words echoing in his head. He may have once believed that by ripping Milah from him, Rumplestiltskin had taken his one chance of happiness from him, but he knew now that it was not the case. Rumplestiltskin still deserved to pay for what he had done, but when Killian thought of Emma and how she listened to him, how easily they had fallen into an affectionate relationship, and finally how much he adored her, he knew that somehow he had obtained happiness once more.

To claim otherwise would be denying everything Emma had done for him. She had stepped aboard his ship, cloak hiding her appearance from view, and had been more open with him than anyone he had met in hundreds of years. She had trusted him with her past, a feat he knew she found difficult, and he had returned the favour in kind. When she stopped talking to him, the truth about his mission and his fate too much for her, he had been unable to cope. His days on deck, days spent without seeing her, had made him as miserable as he had been following the years after Milah’s death, and only without her at his side had he realised how easily she had washed his loneliness away.

He had gone to her and she had told him that they could have _everything_.

That was all Killian wanted. _Emma_ was all he wanted.

_Because he loved her._

Killian swallowed, his hand clenching into a tight fist as he finally understood what his revenge would cost. For the first time since Milah’s death, since her heart had turned to dust, he wasn’t ready to pay such a price.

He looked back at the witch, meeting her appraising look with one of his own. “I don’t want Milah back.” he repeated, sounding more confident in his statement than he had the first time. “Even if she hadn’t been killed, our time would have been over by now. It would have been over centuries ago. She will always have a place in my heart, but I’m ready to let go of the past. I’m going to move on.” Killian knew he shouldn’t be telling the witch this, knowing how happy Emma would be to hear such a declaration, but he needed to say the words. What was the use in having an epiphany if you couldn’t announce it? “And maybe I won’t kill the Dark One. But I will not let Emma face him alone. I will not risk losing someone else I love to him. If I were you, I’d step aside. You’ve delayed me long enough. Emma needs me and _you_ will not hold me back.”

The witch didn’t even comment, emitting a final bark of laughter before vanishing in a small puff of brown smoke. Killian was alone, the only noise coming from the river roaring behind him.

For a moment, he felt empty. Revenge had been his only purpose for so long and he had simply cast it aside without a second thought.

Killian smiled, a new image coming to mind. Emma wanted a future together, wanted to travel with him and her son, and for the first time since she had mentioned such a promise, he was able to want it too.

Being with Emma was more than enough for him.

Maybe he wasn’t ready to tell her. He _knew_ she wasn’t ready to know the depth of his feelings towards her. He knew Emma better than anyone else and despite all her promises, he knew from her stories that any such declarations would scare her. Killian was willing to keep the words to himself until Emma was ready to hear them.

Instead, he would show her just how he felt. To do that, he needed to find her.

Killian faced the rapids, eyes locked on the far bank. Crossing the river would be difficult, it’s waters too deep and fast to make traversing it easy.

But he would do it. He would do anything for her.


End file.
